Revenge of the Catspaw Read online

  “So what is it exactly that you have against Sarah and my relationship?” Coryn now asked Marcues. “You aren't naive enough to think that there hasn't been hanky-panky happening among Agents since time immemorial? If you are, I could tell you stories from my training days....”

  “I don't want to hear stories from your training days, Agent Leigh,” Marcues snapped. “I've heard enough of those. You were an inveterate bed-hopper from all I've been told. Do you really think that anyone is going to believe that you're not still hopping, no matter what you claim, and no matter what sweet stories you've told that naive young girl you're claiming to be engaged to?”

  Coryn wanted to howl with laughter! Gritting his teeth, he allowed himself a mere eye roll. He recalled a discussion he had had with Fiana Marsh; he had told her that Sarah was the real powerhouse in their relationship, and Fiana had admonished him to never forget it! It was true. Sarah, with her talent, could do things, and go places that he, an ordinary human, could barely imagine!

  “If you honestly think that an amarto-sensitive woman of her calibre can be termed a 'naive young girl', you're going to have to think again,” he said. “She's a powerhouse. That's why The Organization wants her.”

  “Don't try to tell me that she wasn't sexually naive when you first dragged her into your bed. And that's the kind of naivety we're talking about here; not her witchy talents!”

  “I did not drag her into my bed.” This was too much. “I have never yet dragged a woman into bed. I have had no need to even contemplate doing something that distasteful; in the days when I was open to that sort of a thing, there were plenty of women who wanted me in their boudoirs. And when Sarah and I first got together she well knew that I loved her deeply, and would never do anything to hurt her. She's a grown woman who, I know, loves me back just as deeply.”

  “That sounds like so much romantic bosh,” Marcues snipped. “You were a womanizer; you worked as an alyen on Space Station RES for almost a decade. You always dated the best-looking women when you weren't being paid for the dates. And now you want people to believe that you're truly in love with a plain, skinny, black-haired chit! No, I for one, don't believe it for a minute!”

  It took a lot of self-control to let that one pass without getting out of the chair and throttling Marcues! It was one thing for him to insult Coryn; another, entirely, to refer to Sarah as “a plain, skinny, black-haired chit”! Had Marcues ever even seen Sarah in person? But she came off well even on vid; there was a brightness about her which drew people to her! Most people commented on how animated she was, and only the ones determined to find fault noted that yes, she was a trifle flat-chested, slim almost to a fault, and too pale-skinned for galactic-standard beauty. But the pale skin and the black hair were traits she shared with the Kordean Witches, a legacy of her natural grandmother, Anya, who had once been a very talented Circle Witch.

  “So where are you going with this?” Coryn asked, instead of punching his boss' jaw.

  “Oh, I'm thinking that it's time to recall you from Trahea. I'm not saying that you haven't done good work there. But it looks to me like it's time for a change of personnel on Kordea. You have simply got too personally involved in the situation there. I understand that you have, through your work with the Liaison Office, become quite friendly with the natives, including some of the Circle Witches, even the one who is considered to be the most powerful person on that world.”

  “And that is bad—in what way?”

  This was growing more absurd by the minute. Wasn't it an Agent's responsibility to make connections wherever he or she was working? And to use those connections to help him get his Agency work done?

  “Personal involvement, young man.” Now Marcues sounded quite pompous. “We don't encourage that, you must be aware of that. How can you bring in to justice traitors to the Confederation cause if you are personally involved with them?”

  “I fail to see how that applies in this case. Kordea is on our side; we are trying to protect that world—and Sarah—from becoming tools in The Organization's hands. The Witches are not about to betray us for the simple reason that they have no interest in turning over their considerable powers to be used by the fanatic Neotsarians. They have chosen to ally themselves—at least to an extent—with the Confederation, in order to gain access to our scientific knowledge in the pursuit of thwarting The Organization's aims.”

  “Hah! At least to an extent, he says! To what extent? And what about beyond that extent? Do we know what other alliances the Crones have made?”

  “We do, as a matter-of-fact.”

  Keeping cool was not getting any easier for Coryn. Had Marcues even bothered to read the briefing notes that he had submitted as a matter of course during his time on Kordea?

  “There are no other alliances. Kordea, as I have noted time and again in my reports, is a planet that has chosen to travel its own road. The reason for that is that the Witches are very aware of the power they wield with their Stones, and believe that the Creator whose existence they take for granted, wants them to safeguard the energies that they have been given. They are not to be used for personal gain, or to amass power over other sentient beings. They believe that is why the power is vested in women, who are less likely to be war-like than men. And why their world is such that it requires much effort on the part of the Seven Sacred Circles to keep it habitable.”

  “That could all change in an instant; you must realize that,” Marcues objected while Coryn gaped at him. “In any case I have already recalled you from Kordea, and I'm sending you on another mission; this one just a short, fact-finding one. You'll leave tomorrow on a mega-transport going to Flameworld. From there you're to take a small carrier to Space Station XER, to debrief our operative there, and to find what you can, about the information leaks concerning space ships and their specs that seem to have been originating from there. The task is not onerous, and should not take long. You'll return here afterwards; by then I should have figured out what is the best long-term posting for you.

  “I don't want to hear any arguments. And no, you don't get to go to Trahea to pick up your things. Your replacement can pack them up and send them to wherever you choose to store them.”

  “Who is my replacement?” Coryn asked, making no move to leave the office. “And have you informed the Diplomatic Corps of what you've done, including obtaining their okay for the new person? They are responsible for the Liaison Office, and they pay the salary and the expenses for that post. Naturally they will want to have considerable say in who occupies it.”

  “Oh, they'll be fine with everything,” Marcues stated dismissively. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have lots to do. I don't have time to engage in silly arguments, or unnecessary shop-talk.”

  **

  Outside Marcues' office Coryn stopped to stare at an electronic mural of a jungle scene while he did deep-breathing exercises to calm himself. Who of the people that he knew at the Headquarters would be the best one to approach about more information about this one of Marcues' foolish notions? The matter was serious; Marcues could be jeopardizing the Terrans' relationship with the Kordeans with his high-handedness.

  Was it all just due to the man's jealousy of an underling's success, or was there something more sinister behind the apparent foolishness? Coryn was not one to see conspiracies under every table; he was too familiar with human stupidity to see venality where idiocy sufficed as an explanation. But this move by Marcues could have far-reaching consequences, and all those consequences were more likely to play into The Organization's hands than into those of the Confederation.

  He needed to talk with someone who had top-level access to decision-making, but also was a responsible Agent and a reasonable human being. But, of course, he realized, the little assignment Marcues was sending him on involved debriefing Matty Harmiss; it would be perfectly natural for him to want to talk to Matty's father before he headed out.

  He headed for Roland Harmiss' office.

  CHAPTER FIVEr />
  “What the hell is it with Marcues?” Coryn burst out as soon as he was ensconced in Roland Harmiss' tiny office.

  Harmiss leaned back in the chair which was squeezed between his desk and a wall. To stretch his legs in it he had to swivel it sideways. He threw a rueful grin at the younger man.

  “Some of the operatives are taking bets,” he said. “On how long it's going to take until he self-destructs.

  “Because he was appointed into his post by a past Chair of the Confederate Governing Council, everyone has been letting a lot of things go, for years. And he wasn't bad, once upon a time, at least when it came to dealing with the other bureaucracies. He did get extra money for us, and some laws passed to make our work easier. The fact that he was pretty useless when it came to internal operations did not matter that much, since we Agents know the ropes thoroughly, and quickly learned to work around him.

  “Now, though, we have had a couple of remarkable successes—the foiling of the threat to the moon Lina on Kordea, and the destruction of The Organization Amarto-Laboratory on Altec III, and he has turned on the fellow who was instrumental in bringing those successes about. And hey, let's not forget the fact that he championed you, in the first place, into the position in which you have performed so well. Although, I suspect that the success of that appointment was not something that he calculated; rather, he was out to bury you in an obscure corner of this bureaucracy.

  “What is his new plan for you, anyway?”

  “I'm gone from Kordea, as far as he's concerned,” Coryn replied. “His reason for that is that somehow my relationship with Sarah destroys my credibility as an Agent there. Which is simply not true; if anything, I am now more invested in safeguarding her. Witch Marlyss—whom you have met—has not the slightest problem with it; she's been supportive, as a matter-of-fact.

  “He wouldn't name the person whom he is sending to Trahea in my stead. That worries me, since, obviously, the Diplomatic Corps have a hefty amount of say in who is the Chief Liaison Officer. Fiana Marsh can handle the job for a few more weeks, but she'll be giving birth soon, and no-one in his or her right mind can expect her to keep working much longer.

  “And tomorrow I'm supposed to take a mega-transport to Flameworld, and ship from there to Space Station XER, to do some debriefing about the space ship specs going astray from there. Sounds pretty much like an unnecessary task; your son, Matty, no doubt has everything that can be figured out, already in hand.”

  “That sounds like a make-work project to get you out of the way, for a short while,” Harmiss said.

  “Sarah suggested that, if I had to choose between the Liaison Office position, and the Agency job, I retain the diplomatic posting,” Coryn stated. “However, I'm somewhat leery of losing the Agency connection, even though, as she pointed out, Jillian, Karan, and some others in the Liaison Office could function as conduits to Agency channels. But I'd be giving up control; Marcues could play musical chairs with them, too, if he so decided. It might well interfere with my ability to protect Sarah, when she's in Trahea.”

  “And we need to keep the Witches informed of what we learn about The Organization's plans,” Harmiss said with a nod. “It seems to me that it is as important for the Confederation to help protect the integrity of the world Kordea, as to keep safe any individual amarto-sensitive.”

  “Why am I not dealing with you, sane as you are, Roland, when it comes to this stuff?” Coryn sighed and shook his head. “Instead, I'm trying to figure out what is going on in the mind of a narcissist, who seems to be jealous of his workers' successes, even when those successes reflect well on him.”

  “If you're asking for my advice, Coryn,” Harmiss said thoughtfully, “I guess I'd suggest that you take on this little make-work project without an argument. But inform your office in Trahea that you're doing so under protest. And get in touch with the Diplomatic Corps, and remind them—even though they hardly need to be reminded—that they have the final say when it comes to naming a permanent Kordean-Confederation Liaison Officer, if you are to be replaced. They don't have to accept whoever Marcues sends there, by any means.”

  “Thanks, Roland. Those are good suggestions. I guess I better try to think of a few names I can offer the Diplomatic Corps for the post—the only one I can think of off-hand is Sarah's father, Peter Mackenzie. He should be returning to Kordea—he was slated to start working at Jaime's new Institute—from Earth within days. He could do the job, and he is acutely aware of the dangers presented by the Neotsarians, so he would not underestimate them.”

  “And, I expect that the Witches would be willing to work with him, since he sort of belongs to them, too,” Harmiss agreed.

  Coryn got out of his chair.

  “Well, I better leave you to your work,” he said. “I'll try to find a quiet corner, or a coffee-shop, and let Fiana and Jillian know that I've been, basically, demoted. How much I dare to rant is a good question, though; I imagine that someone here monitors all communications on the Space Station. And that doesn't include any possible Organization 'snoopers' that may well be carried in various pockets around the promenade.”

  On his way out of the building he stopped to arrange to meet Lindy Cass for dinner in a couple of hours. It would not hurt to hear what her take on the situation at the Headquarters was. She was an intelligent Agent, if a little less so when it came to the affairs of the heart, and she might be able tell him a useful tidbit or two. And, he thought with a sardonic grin, reconnecting with an old flame, even if it was merely over a meal, would get the local gossips to direct their attention down an entirely wrong path.

  **

  “Marcues really is being an ass,” Lindy said after her second glass of wine.

  Coryn felt a touch—but only a touch—guilty, pouring her a third one, even while he signalled the waitress to bring them another bottle. Lindy had always liked her wine, and with her, the ancient saying “In wine there is truth” really did apply.

  He had a memory from their training days, of realizing that they would never become anything more than casual sex-partners, when she had, one well-lubricated evening, began to point out all the men in the bar whom she found attractive. Tall, dark, and handsome, every one of them, and slick in a moneyed-kind of a way. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he had felt rejected. In favour of superficial, upper-class twits! His background, although quite respectable, was strictly middle-class; any money he could ever expect to have, he would have to earn himself! He had done so; the alyen gig had been a lucrative one, and he had followed the advice to save a decent portion of his earnings. So now he had a nice nest-egg; he and Sarah could make use of it once they were able to really begin their life together.

  “An ass in what way?” he asked, to get the words flowing—along with the wine.

  He, himself, was imbibing carefully. His meal half-eaten, he was still on his first glass. He would have to drink some, if only to keep Lindy from realizing that he was using wine to loosen her lips. The second bottle would seem odd if he did not drink from it.

  “Well, for one thing, he's wasting me in the front office,” Lindy said grouchily. “He could have a receptionist doing what I'm doing; it's just checking IDs. For anyone in the least suspicious, I have to call a security squad in. Why do I keep my body in top-notch condition? Why did I learn unarmed combat? Why am I a crack shot with a stunner? A cute, plump chick could do what I do, and she'd be grateful for the job, at an exciting office, while I spend my days gritting my teeth, bored out of my mind! Or an aging guy with a gut could do the work, no problem!”

  “Have you asked to be sent on missions?” Coryn asked.

  “Sure, I have. His answer, every time, is that I'm not reliable; I have anger issues. Until I resolve those, he's not trusting me in any possibly delicate situations.”

  Lindy made a face, and took another gulp out of her wine glass.

  “Anger issues?”

  “He and Graeme, my ex, get along really well; someone pointed out to me a whi
le ago that they had similar backgrounds, and probably similar views about this espionage business. That it should involve fancy equipment, loose women, and good suits. Some kind of a male fantasy, I guess, having little to do with the actual work on the ground, like the stuff that you and your people do, and which gets results.

  “Well, I caught Graeme in flagrante delicto with one of the cute new trainees, at one of those galas that the Station Master puts on once a year or so. I was looking for him because I was tired and wanted to go home; a smirking someone pointed me in the direction of a hallway. I went down it to fetch him, wondering about the smirk, and there they were, on a convenient couch, going at it. I attacked him, bare-handed—didn't bother with the stupid girl—and made quite a mess of his face and neck before he had enough control of his body to defend himself! Managed to make quite the scene; I don't think the Station will soon forget that party!”

  Coryn remembered having heard gossip about the incident. He had been on Space Station RES when it had happened. Lindy had used her nails on her husband, apparently, and Coryn remembered snickering at the news. Graeme had got what was coming to him, had been his opinion; how stupid, or how drunk had he been to think that he could get away with cheating on his wife at a do to which they had come together?

  “Anyway, Graeme looked like a complete fool, and I filed for divorce. I guess he must have put a bug into Marcues' ear—make me pay, one way or another. It's been at least two years, probably closer to three, and I'm still banned from missions, on account of my anger issues. I'm in the market for a new job, but there aren't too many opportunities for an Agent, except here at the Agency. And I like what I do—did—and I was good at it.